On the Verge
by nicolft
Summary: Arthur has always been fragile. Francis has always been desperate. One mistake, one split-second decision was all it took, and now, look at where Francis lay. Rated T for cursing. Sad and kindavery unrealistic. (Whoops.) Warning: FrUK angst up ahead, and character death. One-shot.


**Ehehe...don't ask about what goes on in my imagination. Also, I CAN'T WRITE STORIES OVER ONE CHAPTER BECAUSE...OOOH! LOOK! SHINYYYYY!**

**I don't own Hetalia :33**

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Francis slumped against the sofa, stringy hair hanging in a curtain in front of his face as he held his long, slim legs to his chest.

"_You bastard! Where the bloody fuck were you?!" Arthur's screaming voice, full of rage, hurt, anger, and sadness caused Francis to flinch, hiding a small, red, velvet box in his pocket._

Tears streamed down his pale, sullen face. Cerulean eyes stared down at the black pants he had worn, which were now grimy and smeared with mud.

"_Arrête! Non!" Francis grasped madly at his beloved as he lay splayed on the floor, having been kicked down to the ground. "Please!"_

Nearly silent sobs wracked his otherwise unmoving body as he gave futile attempts to hold back the gasps and hiccups.

_Harsh, cold eyes glared down at Francis._

"_I've had enough of your ways." He kicked Francis in the head when a weak, pale, outstretched hand lifted again, desperately inching towards the Briton, "Maybe you should think twice about your love next time."_

His nails dug into the sides of his knees, piercing through the soft material and cutting into his flesh.

"_Je t'en prie!" Small hiccups interrupted his plead, but nonetheless it stopped Arthur from moving, his hand resting on the doorknob. A moment of silence passed, and Arthur finally replied, his voice shaking with unveiled rage. "...How..."_

A drop of blood soaked into his pants, soon followed by others. Long, manicured nails ripped into his skin mercilessly, leaving Francis unable to keep his agonized whimpers silent as hot, piercing pain accompanied the pools of blood.

"_YOU WERE LATE FOR OUR DAMNED ANNEVERSARY! YOU THINK I DON'T NOTICE WHEN YOU BLOW EVERYONE KISSES? WHEN YOU WANT TIME WITH YOUR FRIENDS INSTEAD OF ME?!"_

Shaky legs push Francis against the wall, where he climbs back up, leaning against it. Tears still stream down his face freely, and without warning, he suddenly lifts himself off the wall—and slams himself back into it, his head flying back with the momentum and giving a resounding thud as it hits the wall.

"_Well, you can go have fun with your friends, then."_

Dark, purple bruises have formed at the back of his knuckles, head, and upper back, but Francis tries one more time to cause himself more pain, although this time, he finds that he's too weakened to even stay standing, so he collapses to the ground, his legs twisting in unnatural angles underneath him. His vision is blurred, he feels too lightheaded to think straight, and his breaths are short and uneven. Pain seared all around him, his joints were stiff, and his sense of touch seemed to be fading, but he was too far gone to even react to the hell-like agony running through his veins.

_The door slams before Francis can even lift a finger._

Not thirty minutes later, Francis lay dead on the floor, the internal bleeding having done its work. True to his nature, he somehow resembles an elegant mess, eyes still leaking silvery tears that glazed over the flourishing crimson streaks stainingthe groun. His figure is loose and relaxed - one would never know of how he suffered in his last moments if the blood was cleaned up and they only cast a glance - although there is one exception. Tightly clutched in his fist is a small, red, velvet box. And inside, a brilliant emerald ring with writing surrounded by beautiful, flowing designs engraved into the golden band that merged into the spire holding the leafy gem.

'Je t'aime, mon cher'

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**^-^ll I'm sorry, I have a twisted imagination and everything's screwed up and this is such an overreaction, but this is fanfiction so suicide because of love is a perfectly applicable death motive...*Nervous laugh* Yeah, I may or may not be bending even the _fanfiction_ standards...LOL WHOOPS.**


End file.
